Just thought if I said it enough, Brokeback Mountain might arrive here sooner.

Meanwhile, you'll have to settle for the opening paragraph:

Ennis Del Mar wakes before five, wind rocking the trailer, hissing in around the aluminum door and window frames. The shirts hanging on a nail shudder slightly in the draft. He gets up, scratching the grey wedge of belly and pubic hair, shuffles to the gas burner, pours leftover coffee in a chipped enamel pan; the flame swathes it in blue. He turns on the tap and urinates in the sink, pulls on his shirt and jeans, his worn boots, stamping the heels against the floor to get them full on. The wind booms down the curved length of the trailer and under its roaring passage he can hear the scratching of fine gravel and sand. It could be bad on the highway with the horse trailer. He has to be packed and away from the place that morning. Again the ranch is on the market and they've shipped out the last of the horses, paid everybody off the day before, the owner saying, "Give em to the real estate shark, I'm out a here," dropping the keys in Ennis's hand. He might have to stay with his married daughter until he picks up another job, yet he is suffused with a sense of pleasure because Jack Twist was in his dream.

You can read more, and find a link to the text of the entire story at my Brokeback Mountain page.

Zombyboy (the creator of my Conclusive Evidence logo, by the way) pointed out that "It's all snowy and crap" here today, but I believe that's only half true.

Snowy and glorious in daveland.

(And oddly above freezing all day and night, though quite a few inches have piled up in town, 2-3 feet in "the foothills," as we call our lesser mountains out here.)